‘Do you want me to handle it?’ he asked.
‘No, I’ll do it.’
‘It’s customary for the senior officer to take the lead when disciplining -’
‘Yes, I know and I understand why that’s the case, but I need to know what he’s leaked and to whom. I think I’ve got more chance of getting that if I tackle him alone.’
Whittaker eyeballed her.
‘Do you have some special kind of pull on him?’
‘No, but he respects me,’ Helen said quickly. ‘He knows I don’t bullshit and that if I offer him a deal that it’ll be genuine and offered in good faith.’
Whittaker seemed appeased by that. So Helen departed. She’d never been so glad to get out of his office. Then again, that was the easy bit. The hard part would be facing Mark.
Helen climbed into her car and pulled the door shut behind her. For a moment, the sound of the world with all its cares was muffled. A moment’s peace from a world that kept raining stones on her. Why had she allowed Mark to get so close to her? Why had she chosen him as her sounding board, when he was obviously leaking every last detail of her investigation. She winced as she remembered their chats in the pub, in the incident room, rehearsing theories, considering suspects. Who knows, perhaps there was some hideous caricature of her – the bumbling, ineffectual copper – already taking shape in Mickery’s book. A brilliant phantom of a killer, pursued haplessly by ignorant cops.
Helen cried out in pain and looked down to see her fingernails dug into her palm. She had drawn blood in her frustration and anger. Cursing her stupidity, she tried to regain her focus. Now was not the time to be distracted by what might be. No point fighting imaginary battles. She’d done enough of that in the past. Now it was time to be calm, strong and decisive. Now was the time to act.
His first feeling was one of relief. Mark had been trying to get hold of Helen all day to tell her about the developments re Martina, without success. Now here she was, leaning against his front door. Satisfaction surged to something more – hope? excitement? – as she had come back to him here, rather than collaring him in the office. Perhaps she liked to be mysterious, hot and cold, hard to handle. But something in her expression told him this was not the case.
She said nothing as he opened the door and let her in. There was nothing for it but to play ball. See how bad things really were. So he pulled up a chair and sat down to face her. Who was going to make the first move?
‘This may be the last time we meet like this. We have been friends and more, so let’s not scream or shout or accuse or lie or make this any more painful than it has to be.’